Pretend I'm Yours (Pretend 1)

“You bad at interviews or something? Because I can tell you if you are, I’d hire you in a second. I have trouble getting my own people to read shit like this. And you did it for fun, and actually understood everything.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t want a job.”

“Why not? You need a job to make money. Work for me.”

She gets up, storming across the room to distance herself from me.

“I had plenty of job offers when I graduated. I had one offer from Apple to run an entire project that would’ve paid me six figures.”

My eyes pop open.

“I turned them down.”

“Why?”

She fidgets with the hem of her skirt, pulling it up too high on her thigh.

“Because I didn’t want to work for a corporation.”

I smirk. “Because you want to freeload off a man like me and live in a fantasy world where you can run and teach a few yoga classes and yet still live in a fancy house.”

Her eyes bulge, her cheeks redden, and her lips tense along with her entire body. She looks like I just slapped her. I wouldn’t be surprised if her face swells and forms a bruise even though I didn’t physically touch her. She is beyond pissed. This is her kryptonite. She doesn’t like it when I talk about needing a man to pay her bills.

“I can’t believe I never saw how big of an ass you were before. I’m done running, at least in any professional sort of sense. And I teach yoga because I love it. And no, I don’t plan on living off a man. Ever. I want more than just to teach yoga classes, but I want more than just sitting behind a desk making someone else’s dream a reality.”

I shake my head. “Yea, so that’s why you agreed to our little arrangement. You get to live in the fancy house, while barely working. And you get a million dollars. What’d you do with the money, Larkyn?”

I pushed too far. I can see it in her eyes. Her ankle is still swollen, but she storms out so fast, you’d never know she was injured.

“I need you to go with me to a cocktail hour this weekend,” I holler after her, hoping she will stop being pissed at me by this weekend.

“Go to hell!”

Yep, I pushed way too far this time. But it’s for the best. Larkyn is better off without me.

15

Larkyn

Kade is an ass.

He’s worse than an ass. He’s a cocky, arrogant, son of a bitch. He has no right to tell me I’m just living off him, when the only reason he is as rich as he is, is because of his father. Kade may have taken the businesses to the next level, but he got a whole lot of a head start from his father.

Just because I don’t want to follow the same path and take money from my own father, doesn’t mean I’m a spoiled princess. I thought he knew that about me, but apparently not.

I slip the diamond bracelet onto my wrist. I should tell Kade what I did with the money. It was his money first. He should know how I spent it. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to be the perfect date and act as if he doesn’t affect me. Tonight, I’m going to show him just how committed I am to pulling my weight in this deal. That I’m my own person, and my life doesn’t fall to pieces when he yells at me.

I step out into the hallway on my much too high heels and storm down the five feet to his bedroom. I should consider moving my stuff to the bedroom on the other side of the house. It’s much bigger than my current room and gets more morning sun, which I love. I know the only reason he put me in this room was so I could be feet away from him.

I knock loudly on his bedroom door and wait. I push my hip to the side, posing as best as I know how. I don’t smile, I don’t want to appear fake, but I do moisten my lips and give little pout.

The door creeps open slowly until I see Kade standing in the doorway, looking as gorgeous as I’ve ever seen him. Dark grey pants with a white buttoned shirt, open at the top, with a dark grey jacket over it. He’s shaved, but left just the right amount of stubble on his cheeks. And he’s grinning like he knows just how much effort it took me to be standing in his doorway right now.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he says, rolling his eyes up and down my body.

I can’t focus when his eyes do that. So I wait until he’s thoroughly checked out the slip on my dress that skirts the line between being slutty and sexy. Until his eyes finish their trail up the pink and grey dress.

“Finished?” I ask, swaying my hip out even more.